


Not like this.

by IAmTheNightman98



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Regret, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 16:51:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18721108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmTheNightman98/pseuds/IAmTheNightman98
Summary: Tormunds breath is hot and heavy against her skin. "Don't you want to know what it feels like to be a woman?" He asks in a low, gritty tone.Brienne’s breath catches in her throat and her voice trembles "I do, just-""Just not with me?" He finishes.-x-Brienne decides that her virginity it a burden she no longer wishes to carry. But something about the way she’s going about it just feels so... wrong.





	Not like this.

Brienne’s body shivers at the unfamiliar sensation of strong hands gripping her hips. 

 

She can’t get used to the feeling of her body being touched in this way. Her body is strong and dense with muscle. Her hand’s are too big and calloused from many years of training with the sword. Her skin is scarred. She has the body of a warrior, not a woman, so the feeling of hands on her shallow curves and warm breath on her neck feels wrong. 

 

It sends shivers down her spine, but not in an good way. Not in the way she has heard women are supposed to feel during these moments. It makes her skin feel as though it is crawling with lice. A burn of shame rages across her skin. She’s not suited to being a woman in any other way, so it makes sense that she would fail at this too. 

 

The breath on her neck moves to her jaw, then suddenly she feels a rough, dry set of lips against her own. The lips move against hers,but hers stay motionless, clamped tightly shut. After a moment, one of the hands moves from her hip to the back of her neck. She can feel his gentle grip, attempting to angle her head the way he wants it, but she resists. 

 

“Kiss me back, woman.” He mutters gruffly against her lips. 

 

She squeezes her eyes tightly shut, willing herself not to cry,  She had agreed to this, she wanted to do this. She still wants to do this, but her body won’t cooperate. Since the Battle of Winterfell, she had assumed that nothing would scare her again, but here she is, paralyzed by fear. 

 

“Sorry.” She murmurs, then waits for him to kiss her again.

 

This time, she’s ready. When his lips hit hers she tries to relax. She breathes deeply through her nose as his lips move gently. His hand on her hip moves to curl around her waist and his fingers thread through her hair. She has almost built up the confidence to start kissing him  too, when his tongue darts out and wets her lips. She pulls her head back with a sudden jerk and her eyes fly open in shock. 

 

“What are you doing?” She hisses. 

 

Tormund’s face is the picture of confusion and he narrows his eyes at her. “Have you never been kissed?” 

 

She considers lying. She thinks it’s frankly embarrassing for a woman of thirty to be so inept. But there’s no way she’s going to pretend like she knows what she’s doing. “No.” She says, looking to the floor so that she can’t see his reaction. 

 

He removes his arm from her waist and his hand from her hair and takes a step back and she can feel tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. Now, even a man who has lusted after her for years is put off by her virginity. 

 

“Do you want to do this or not?” He asks and Brienne’s eyes snap up because he almost sounds annoyed. Like her situation is an inconvenience for him. When she looks to his face, she sees a look of concern and realsies she may have been mistaken in her judgement of his tone, but she doesn’t relax.

 

She considers briefly whether she does actually want to do this. On the one hand, the thought terrifies her. The feeling of being kissed felt uncomfortable and nothing like how she thought it would. How she hoped it would. But on the other hand, she didn’t want to die a virgin and this could be her only chance, since nobody else would have her.

 

She’d finally allowed Tormund to take her up to his chambers in Winterfell. Everyone around them was celebrating the fact that they were alive, in one way or another. So when he’d propositioned her and offered to show her how real fighters unwind after a battle, with very little subtlety as to his implication, she’d agreed, thinking that if anything it would be a good way to shake the nickname of the Maid of Tarth. 

 

She takes a deep breath before nodding her head. “I do.” She says softly. 

 

With that, he move to kiss her again. His lips slide against hers as his hands move to her waist, pulling her closer to him. When she works up the confidence to move her lips, she prays to the gods that she isn’t doing it wrong. His tongue darts across her lips once more and she has to clench her fists at her sides to stop herself from trembling. 

 

Eventually, his tongue pushes past her lips, It feels hot and heavy in her mouth. She has nothing to compare it to, but it feels uncoordinated and sloppy, but she imagines that it is largely her fault for not cooperating.

 

It feels wrong. 

 

She briefly considers moving away, pulling her breaches down and bending over against the bed so that he can take her that way. She wants to skip all of this uncomfortable build up that fills her with dread. She wants it to be over quickly so that it can never happen again. This… business. It’s not supposed to be a part of her world. 

 

Before she can make a move, he drops his face to the crook of her neck and kisses her there. 

 

If she thought kisses to her lips were bad, kisses against her neck feel like agony. She squirms in discomfort as his rough beard scratches her skin. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she moves her hands to his chest and pushes him away firmly. “Stop.” She whispers. “I can’t do this.” 

 

To his credit, Tormund moves his hands off her quickly then takes a step back. His face is etched with confusion and concern. “What’s wrong?” 

 

She shakes her head and looks at the ground, because what can she even say to that? How can she tell him that the feeling of his lips makes her skin crawl? How can she tell him that his hands feel like a vice around her? How can she tell him that she’s a failure of a woman? 

 

His eyes are hooded with lust and he stares her up and down. It feels terrible. She doesn’t want to be looked at like she’s a piece of meat. She’s a kight. He has no right to look at her in that way. 

 

“Don’t you want to know what it feels like to be a woman?” He says in a gruff, sultry tone. 

 

She inhales sharply, her mind being pulled back the time all those years ago, when she’d heard those words before. 

 

_ “You’d love to know what it feels like to be a woman.”  _

 

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes, because of course she does. She wants more than anything to know what it feels like to have someone kissing her and to be enjoying the feeling. She wants to be held by someone. She wants to be loved by someone. 

 

But she realises, as she thinks back to Jaime’s words, that is isn’t just anyone she wants. 

 

It’s one person in particular. 

 

Tormunds lips on hers, his hands pulling her closer, his breath on her neck, it all felt wrong because it wasn’t his that she wanted. 

 

He isn’t Jaime. 

 

Her breath catches in her throat as she realises how much of a mistake she’s made. She doesn’t want any of this, she just want Jaime. 

 

“I do.” She tells Tormund softly. “I do want to know what it feels like, just-”

 

“Not with me.” He finishes and she nods her head gently. “The King Killer?” 

 

“Ser Jaime.” She corrects. 

 

He nods his head in understanding and takes another step away from her. Then, he gestures to the door, indicating that she should leave. “He’s a lucky man.” 

 

She nods her head softly in gratitude. “I’m sorry.” She says, but he shakes his head. “Thank you.” She tells him before quickly leaving his room. 

 

She has to force herself not to break into a run as she navigates the halls of Winterfell, heading for Jaime’s room. There’s no plan for when she arrives. No idea of what she’s going to say, or what she would do if he rejects her. But none of that seems to matter. All that matters is him. 

 

When she arrives, she raises a trembling hand to his door and knocks softly.

 

He opens the door and his eyes seem to go wide when he realises its her. “Ser Brienne.” He stammers, straightening the front of his tunic.  “Would you like to-” He starts, but she’s already walking past him into the room. She hears the door click shut behind her, takes a deep breath then turns to face him. 

 

“Is everything alright.” He asks, taking a small step towards her. He looks more nervous than she feels. 

 

She shakes her head and says a silent prayer that she will not cry. “Tormund has just- Tormund and I- We kissed.” She blurts out . Fuck propriety. Fuck dancing around what she wants to say. She’s done with living her life with caution. 

 

Jaime’s face falls and his jaw tightens. “Right.” 

 

“I hated it.” 

 

His eyes snap up to hers and she can see the fury behind them. “Brienne, did he force himself-”

 

“No, no.” She cuts him off quickly. “I wanted to. Or at least, I thought I wanted to.”

 

Jaime’s face screws up with a mixture of anger and confusion. “Why are you telling me this?”

 

“I hated it because he isn’t you.” She tells him before she can stop herself. Jaime swallows nervously and she can see his breathing is heavy, as is her own. “Ser Jaime, the nature of our relationship has changed so greatly over its course that I have been unable to stop myself… I could not prevent-” She stammers, her confidence faltering. “I didn’t intend to, but I’m afraid that I-”

 

“I love you too.” He cuts her off. 

 

She stares at him for a moment and he stares back at her, then before she even realises what she’s doing, she’d cupping his face in her hands and pulling his lips to hers. 

 

Their lips dance together beautifully. The feeling does not compare to how she had felt kissing Tormund. He is hesitant and soft as he moves his lips against hers, then, she remembers what Tormund had done with his tongue and thinks it is very much something she would like to try. Her tongue flicks against Jaime’s lips and he moans softly. When his mouth opens she darts her tongue out to slide against his daringly. 

 

He kisses her with so much precision, yet delicacy that it makes her knees weak and she can feel the uncertain touch of his fingertips on her hip. In an attempt to encourage him, he threads her fingers through his hair and wraps a firm arm around his waist, pulling him closer. His left hand closes around her hip and his thumb grazes her in slow circles. Then, she feels him smiling. She pulls back and rests her forehead against his as they both catch their breath. 

 

“Was it as good as you expected?” He says softly. 

 

“Better.” She grins, pecking his lips. As she pulls away, she feels breath trembling. “Are you okay?” She whispers. 

 

“Sorry.” He chuckles and a blush ghosts his cheeks. “Just nervous.” He admits and she feels her heart melt. 

 

“Me too.” She reasures him and he drops his head onto her shoulder. She brings her arms up to hold him tightly and drops a kiss into his head. 

 

This is how she wanted it to be. 

 

This is how it’s supposed to be. 

 

She’s never wanted to be lusted after, or viewed as a commodity for post-battle celebration. She didn’t want roughness, or a sense that it needed to be over. She didn’t want for someone to make her feel self conscious about her lack of experience, even if that wasn’t his intention. 

 

What she wants is to be loved. She wants exactly what she has with Jaime. The reassurance of knowing that they’re both just as afraid as each other, that all of this is new for both of them, that’s what she needs. 

 

The thought of being intimate with him is far from terrifying, her body feels excited for it, but she knows she doesn’t want it to happen tonight. The war is over, they survived. There’s no need to rush something that can be so beautiful. She’s spent her life convinced that this would never happen for her, and he’s only just come to terms with his separation from Cersei, they both need time to heal, but she thinks it will be an honour to go through that process with him. 

 

“I’m yours.” She whispers into his hair, but he doesn’t reply. He simply tightens his arms around her middle and burrows his head further into her neck. 

 

Nothing has ever felt more right. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!!


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